


In the Fields of Flanders

by Celosia



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: History, M/M, Nationverse, Tumblr Prompt, War, World War I, aphrarepairweek2019, hopefully historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 02:13:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19241752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celosia/pseuds/Celosia
Summary: World War I was a difficult war for everyone involved. For Matthew, some wounds from the past are never going to completely heal, but luckily Allistor is there to help pick up the pieces.





	In the Fields of Flanders

War was never a pretty thing, and even as an immortal nation, there was no way to truly get used to the atrocities of war. Not when the means of destruction kept getting worse and worse as technology progressed.

 

However, he was immortal. He was a country. Even if he died, he wouldn't stay that way forever, so he had long since stopped fearing death. Still, Allistor would've thought that there was nothing that could've scared him or shocked him anymore after everything that he had seen and witnessed.

 

He was wrong.

 

The day was April 24, 1915. Allistor had been stationed at Gallipoli when it had happened, preparing for the battle that would ensue the following day. A battle that was a devastating defeat for the forces that he led. No, not a battle. A slaughter.

 

It wasn't until two weeks later that Allistor had received the telegraph from his brother Arthur. The words had left a knot in Allistor's stomach: Matthew had been severely injured and his troops had sustained heavy casualties from a new chemical weapon the Germans were using.

 

The young nation had taken forces to help reinforce the British troops that were stationed along Ypres in order to hold the area against German occupation. The first wave of the gas had decimated the French and Algerian forces that had been helping hold the line. However, four days later on the 24th of April, a second wave of the gas had hit Matthew's troops head-on and the blonde had been caught right in the middle of it. Arthur had managed to find the nation among the remains of the fallen soldiers, but Matthew wouldn't be rejoining the fight.

 

Guilt gnawed at Allistor because he felt he should've been there. He should've been fighting by Matthew's side.

 

He took the next available train to the hospital where Matthew was being held, and the sight that met him when he reached Matthew's room nearly broke his heart.

 

"Matthew?" Allistor asked, his voice hesitant as he stepped over to the bed and the pale figure that lay beneath the thin sheets.

 

The golden curls that Allistor so loved were oily and tangled, laying limply around Matthew's head as though they hadn't been washed in weeks. A good portion of the man's skin that would've been visible was wrapped in bandages, some with more blood on them than others, and several places appearing yellow in color. But the most noticeable feature that didn't belong was the thick bandages that were wrapped around Matthew's head, covering his eyes.

 

"Allistor?"

 

Matthew had always been a soft-spoken nation from the very first time that Allistor had known the boy, but now… His voice was unnaturally quiet with a roughness to the edges of the voice, his throat raw and irritated.

 

"Shhh… Quiet, lamb. It's me," Allistor murmured, making sure that the room was locked and the curtains drawn before settling on the edge of the bed next to Matthew and gently caressing the young man's face.

 

The touch drew a shuddering breath from Matthew's lips that transformed into a series of frame-wracking coughs, blood soon dripping from the corner of his lips. Allistor soon guided the cup of water to Matthew's lips, allowing him to drink his fill before the blonde settled back into the bed weakly. As if the coughing fit had drained him of all energy he possessed. So Allistor merely sat there, running his fingers through the golden locks that he loved so much.

 

Whenever Matthew tried to sit up several minutes later, opening his mouth as if to protest, Allistor merely placed a finger to his lips. "Enough of that. Ye need yer rest, Matthew… I don't want to hear any complaints aboot it."

 

Regardless, a small whine managed to escape Matthew's lips as he blindly reached around until he found Allistor's face. Long fingers brushed delicately across his skin, and Allistor turned his head to press a kiss to the palm of Matthew's hand.

 

A relieved sigh made Matthew's shoulders slump, brushing his fingertips across the stubble of Allistor's cheeks and chin. It made Allistor remember that it had been a long time since he had shaved, but that wasn't important right now.

 

"Let's get a good look at ye. Ye should be healing up soon…" Slowly, the redhead reached up and unwound the bandages from Matthew's head, but when the final wrap fell away, Allistor froze. Staring up at him were a pair of unfocused milky eyes instead of the bright violet he was so accustomed to. "Dear God…"

 

"I don't think there is a God in this war, Alli…" Matthew breathed out between pained winces.

 

And it was then that Allistor realized that this was what Arthur had meant when he said that Matthew wouldn't be rejoining the fighting. How could he fight if he couldn't even see? There was a flash of anger in his chest towards his brother. How could Arthur not tell him what happened? He  _ knew _ and still didn’t tell him.

 

"Quiet, Matthew," Allistor murmured, pressing a firm kiss to the nation's forehead. "Be still and rest."

 

“Don’t leave…” whispered Matthew. “I don’t want to be alone…”

 

Whatever pain and horrors that the man had witnessed and experienced, Allistor would never be able to guess, but if Matthew needed him, then he wasn’t going to turn him away. After all, Allistor had been the first to discover the boy when he had been merely a fledgling nation, a child--a fact that was something that Francis and Arthur both liked to forget--and it was Allistor that had always stayed by Matthew’s side, despite the other nations’ jealousy and fighting over who would make Canada their colony.

 

“Of course, lamb. I’m not going to leave ye,” he said softly, gently with another kiss to the blonde’s forehead, humming softly.

 

All of the tension seemed to melt away from Matthew’s muscles, as if he had been a spring that had been wound too tightly, as he finally drifted off to sleep when Allistor began humming the old Gaelic lullabies that he once used to sing to the boy. To chase away the nightmares of the wars that had happened on his own land when  _ Arthur _ was supposed to be protecting him. To chase away the worries of what the next day would bring when the nations that had been fighting over him had suddenly tossed him to the wayside and left him to his own devices when they became busier with “more important matters.” It had made Allistor scoff that the pair could be such blind fools, treating someone so  _ precious _ as nothing but a shiny toy that they eventually grew tired of when the newness and novelty wore off.

 

Through it all, Allistor had always been there when Matthew needed him.

 

It took several weeks more before Matthew was discharged from the hospital, but the Scot stayed by Matthew’s side during the entire time. Caring for him every day and singing away the nightmares of the war every night. Eventually, Matthew’s sight had begun to return, but too much damage had been done, and even as a nation, his eyes would never fully heal back to normal.

 

After Matthew’s glasses had been received though, he had insisted on returning to the fight. Arthur protested and ranted for nearly an hour when Matthew had approached him about it, but Allistor had intervened and there wasn’t anything that Arthur could say if the Scot was going to be fighting by Matthew’s side.

 

The war dragged on, and at times, it felt like there would never be any end to it.

 

“There’s so much death…” Matthew had murmured one evening as he gazed out over the trenches. It was late-September of 1916, Canadian forces making their debut at the Battle of the Somme despite the battle dragging on ever since the start of July, and Allistor's men were right there alongside Matthew's.

 

"Aye, I know…" Allistor responded gently between the sounds of bombs and artillery in the distance, one hand resting on the blonde's shoulder. It was always in these quiet moments between the fighting where he could see just how much it was affecting Matthew. Allistor knew that Matthew tried to hide it, and it was easy to when they were fighting.

 

"Our people are suffering so much," he murmured as he leaned slightly against Allistor, the smallest admission to needing comfort. It was something that Matthew would never admit to Arthur, when Arthur had always felt that he should be able to manage on his own.

 

No, that was why Allistor had always been there, following behind Arthur and picking up the broken pieces that his brother left in his wake when he had dealt with Matthew. How could Arthur selfishly expect so much from such a young nation that had barely been exposed to the atrocities of war?

 

"I know… I know…" Allistor pressed his cheek against the side of Matthew's head. "Sometimes things get worse before they get better though…" Did he think of Matthew as a child? No, far from it, and Matthew had more than proved himself on the battlefield. Allistor just wished that Arthur was more understanding and less demanding.

 

"I know…" Matthew whispered with a sigh as he slipped away to the medical tent, where he had been diligently caring for any of the wounded in between the fighting.

 

Gazing back out over the field of battle, Allistor knew that there would be many more.

 

In April of 1917 came the Battle of Arras, and their troops were fighting side-by-side once again. The British troops were attempting to launch an offensive assault to break through the German defenses at Arras, France. It was Matthew's troops though that led the pivotal assault on Vimy Ridge from the 9th to the 12th.

 

It was four days of heavy bombardment and artillery fire, and Matthew's men sustained heavy casualties. Allistor and Matthew themselves were covered in wounds, and there had been several times where Matthew had stopped and helped Allistor dig out stray bullets that had managed to hit home. Allistor was sure there were times where he had died, only to wake up to Matthew tending to his wounds. Each time, Matthew had tended to Allistor with steady, gentle hands and whispered words, sweet nothings that made Allistor yearn for the fighting to be over and that he could have Matthew to himself. He knew that Matthew didn't mean any of the things that he had said though.

 

After the end of those first days of intense fighting and sleepless nights, Matthew and Allistor stood in shock as they watched the German forces retreat from Vimy Ridge. After so many losses and stalemates during the two and a half years of war they had been fighting, after so many lives had been lost, it felt like they were finally gaining the upper hand.

 

Amid the cheering of the Canadian forces and gunfire that followed after the retreating enemies, Allistor hugged Matthew against him, a wide smile on the blonde's face for the first time in a long time. Matthew's hand found his cheek, and the Scotsman was soon pulled into a deep kiss. He tugged the other nation closer, relishing in the taste and the feel of their lips pressed together. It was only when the kiss had been reluctantly broken for the need of air that they pulled apart, a self-conscious flush spreading across Matthew's face and a shy smile tugging at his lips. All Allistor could do was stare at him in amazement.

 

Maybe he  _ had _ actually meant all of those things that he had said to Allistor.

 

The fighting at Vimy eventually turned into more of a stalemate as their reinforcements failed to make it in time before the German troops began to fill in the holes that their offensive had put within their ranks. By that time, Matthew and Allistor were being transferred to a different location, receiving a brief reprieve from the fighting.

 

That was when they had found out that the United States had joined the war. Not from any telegraph, no; because they came face to face with the young nation himself.

 

"Hey, Mattie! Bro, it's been so long since I've seen you!" Alfred had exclaimed, all bright-eyed, breaking off his conversation with Arthur to try to give Matthew a hug.

 

Matthew was quick to put distance between them though. "Yes, well, I've been busy fighting, Mr. Neutrality…" His voice was carefully courteous and distant, though Alfred didn't seem to notice or wasn’t fazed by it.

 

"Yeah, I know that. That's why I'm here now though. The hero's come to save everyone!" Alfred had his hands against his hips and his chest puffed out, gazing off into the distance as though he were the epitome of some sort of superhero. And Arthur stood there beside Alfred, patting his back as though he were the center of the world.

 

Allistor watched as Matthew’s face became stony. “A hero?” There was ice in his voice and his eyes had darkened. “A  _ hero? _ ” Allistor knew where this was heading as Matthew stepped closer to Alfred and shoved him in the chest. “You’re no hero! You never have been. If you’re such a hero, then where were you two and a half years ago when the fighting began, eh? You were perfectly fine with sitting back behind your stupid  _ blanket of neutrality _ and making money off of the war, while everyone else has been out here fighting for our lives and for our people! If you’re such a  _ hero _ , then where were you when you could’ve helped keep our men from dying! You are no hero, Alfred. You’re nothing but a coward who finally ended up getting the  _ balls _ to stop cowering in fear across the ocean, because  _ your  _ people are suddenly in danger and it suddenly suits  _ you _ to join the war. You're a damn hypocrite,  _ America _ ."

 

At that, Alfred flinched as though he had been slapped in the face. He didn't say anything, which surprised Allistor.

 

Arthur, on the other hand, looked livid. " _ Matthew _ , that is  _ enough _ . You have no bloody right to--"

 

"No right to  _ what _ ?" The question was like ice, and the look in Matthew's eyes had made Arthur freeze in place. "I'm sorry that I'm not the  _ perfect _ colony that you wanted, Arthur. But I will not stand by and let my people's sacrifices be insulted and let their deaths have been made in vain. You seem to forget so quickly what happened to my men…"

 

There was a pause as Arthur was forced to look away, and it was in that lull of silence that Alfred spoke again, almost timidly this time. Allistor wished that he hadn't though. "Mattie…? What happened to your eyes…?" he asked, reaching a hand towards the Canadian.

 

Matthew's face contorted in a rare expression of anger as he slapped Alfred's hand away and marched out of the tent. Allistor raised an eyebrow as he turned his gaze onto the pair of blondes. More specifically, Alfred. "He blames ye, y'know. At least partially, and I can't say that I disagree with him."

 

"But I haven't done anything!" Alfred exclaimed, a look of confusion and hurt on his features.

 

"That's exactly the point. He asked ye for help and ye refused to do anything. Now a good lot of good men are dead that could've still been alive if ye had helped from the start…" Allistor turned away to watch Matthew talk among the men that were gathered around the camp, his hand resting on the frame of the tent. "At Ypres, he was among his men when they were bombed by the Germans with chlorine gas. He lost his sight because of it, and he was blind for weeks. He's never going to fully have his sight back the way it's supposed to be… And even though Arthur refused to let him continue fighting, Matthew is still out there selflessly putting his life on the line to save people and defend them without any regard to his own life…  _ That's _ a hero.." Allistor turned his gaze on Arthur, green eyes meeting green. "And you, little brother… I'd bet my last kilt that Matthew's only stayed as one of your colonies for so long because he doesn't want to fight and doesn't want to see any of his people die. But if ye push him… Well, I already have my money on who would win that fight…"

 

And Allistor left it at that as he walked off to join Matthew, a knowing smile appearing on the blonde’s face when Allistor draped an arm over Matthew’s shoulders. Not for the first time, Allistor wanted nothing more than to pull Matthew off to the side and shower him with kisses. With the weight of Arthur and Alfred's stares on his back though, he was too reluctant to try.. Instead, he gently bumped his hip against Matthew’s and ran his fingers through the tips of the other nation’s hair. He hoped that the war would be over soon.

 

As they were redeployed to the area around the city of Lens, preparations for their next battle dragged on for the next several months as they continually raided the German forces and feigned direct attacks on Lens. It wasn’t until mid-August that the Canadian corps were able to launch their true objective: attacking and taking control of Hill 70.

 

Never before had Allistor watched Matthew fight with such ferocity. Within the first twenty minutes of the attack on August 15th, they had already reached their first objective and continued to hold the position throughout the day despite numerous counter-attacks by the German battalions. It was the afternoon of the 16th that the German resistance picked up, with counter-attacks beginning to consist of a new chemical weapon: Yellow Cross shells.

 

“Mustard gas…” Matthew had murmured to Allistor as they hunkered together in one of the trenches where they were blissfully alone. His gaze was distant as he stared down at his hands. “They’re in so much pain because of it… It’s always some type of gas, some type of poison… It’s inhumane…”

 

“It’s war, lamb,” Allistor said, not ungently as he took a long drag of a cigarette before exhaling. He pressed a hand to Matthew’s cheek, making the blonde look up at him. “There’s always going to be suffering in war.” Allistor dropped the cigarette to the ground, stamping the butt out with the heel of his boot. “That’s why I’m here to help you through it.”

 

Matthew blinked a few times up at him before a small smile pulled at his lips, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know.” He placed his hand on top of Allistor’s. “You always have...and there’s no one else I’d rather have by my side.” The words were so genuine, it made the Scot’s chest ache.

 

“And I always will…” Allistor murmured, other words threatening to spill themselves from his tongue, but he knew the middle of a war was neither the time nor place for such sentiments. Instead, he kissed him, gently as his hands tangled into the blonde hair hidden beneath Matthew’s helmet.

 

A shaky sigh fell from Matthew’s lips, warming Allistor’s face as the kiss broke. “ _ Dileas Gu Brath _ …” The whispered words made the redhead’s heart soar in his chest. Canada may have been an English colony, but Allistor would always know where Matthew’s heart belonged.  _ Faithful forever… _

 

The fighting in the area dragged on for nearly a week more with the Germans never managing to take back Hill 70, the Canadian forces maintaining their strong defense although they were never able to recapture the city of Lens. It was still seen as a victory, and their forces were able to maintain control of the area as the war continued on into the following year.

 

It was in May of 1918 that the United States had finally sent troops to aid in the war, culminating in a U.S. victory at the Battle of Cantigny. The look on Matthew’s face when he heard the news was engraved into Allistor’s memory. The anger, the frustration, the hurt…

 

“I don’t  _ get  _ it…” Matthew mumbled as he paced back and forth between the trees, Allistor’s gaze following his every movement. “He stays neutral for two and a half years, joins the war and claims to be a hero, but then does jackshit for an entire year while everyone else is still out here fighting and dying! He suddenly swoops in and wins a battle, and everybody starts to get so blinded to the fact that he hasn’t  _ done  _ anything up until now, they start praising him and  _ treating _ him like a hero. That he’s going to be the savior of the war… And yet  _ we _ fight and we fight and we fight, and it all means  _ nothing _ …”

 

“It’s not nothing, Matthew,” Allistor spoke up, pushing himself off of the tree he had been leaning against and placing his hands firmly on the other’s shoulders. “Everything that you’ve done… Everything that we’ve been fighting for. It means  _ everything _ . It’s like ye said to him a year ago: we’ve been out here fighting to protect our people, our countries. Their lives matter, and everything that  _ you  _ and  _ your _ men have done matters. I’ve been right beside you ever since what happened to you at Ypres. You’ve fought bravely and fiercely, and you’ve done so much that only  _ you _ could’ve done.”

 

Matthew started to protest. “But everybody--”

 

“Everybody is tired of fighting. This war has been dragging on for a long time, and there have been so many lives lost… The people’s morale has been dropping, and our troops have been dwindling. They’re just looking for the next thing to give them hope that the war will finally end.” Allistor’s hands slid up to cradle Matthew’s face. “But don’t let that discourage you or make ye degrade everything that  _ you _ have done.”

 

Letting out a sigh, Matthew’s eyes slid closed as he merely leaned into Allistor’s hands. For several long moments, he didn’t say anything, and Allistor had almost worried that he had said something wrong. Smiling, Matthew leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. "Thank you…" he murmured, brushing their lips against each other in the faintest whisper of a kiss before he pulled back, standing up straight. "I just wish the fighting would end…"

 

For the first time, Allistor realized just how tall Matthew had grown over the years. The redhead himself was six feet tall, and the blonde was just the slightest bit taller than him. It was an odd feeling. Had he grown over the course of the war? Maybe.

 

All Allistor could do was smile. "Me too…"

 

The war continued to drag on for several more months, but it ultimately ended in an Allied victory which had resulted in an armistice on November 11th. A feeling of relief had swept through the nations when the official end to the fighting had been announced.

 

"No one else has to die now…" Allistor murmured as he stood with Matthew on one of the terraces outside of a hospital where they had been helping to treat those wounded in the war.

 

A bittersweet smile pulled at Matthew's lips, his eyes dark as he readjusted the glasses on his nose. "They're human… They're always going to die…"

 

"Matthew--"

 

"But you're right. No one has to fight anymore. Hopefully not for a long time…" Matthew murmured, his smile wider as he gazed out at the city, though Allistor knew he wasn't truly seeing it. His hands were clenching the sleeves of his jacket, and he was still favoring his right leg as his other had been broken by falling rubble that he had pushed a fellow soldier out of the way of.

 

"Canada! There you are!" It was a woman's voice. One of the other nations.

 

"Belgium!" Matthew glanced over at Allistor with surprise as the female nation approached. "What are you doing here?" he asked, as she reached up and pressed a kiss to both of his cheeks in greeting.

 

"Now that the fighting is over… I wanted to thank you properly," she stated with a bob of her head, holding out a large bouquet of red poppies.

 

Matthew raised an eyebrow in question, though he took the flowers. "What do you mean?"

 

"For everything that you and your men did for my people. In Ypres, and along the Ypres Salient. I know of your loss," she said gently, a hand resting on Matthew's arm. "I want you to know that your sacrifice and the lives of your men will not be forgotten by my people. And they will always have a place of honor there, just as they will in France. He had other matters to attend to with his people, but he wished for me to pass the message on to you, that your men fought bravely and that he will have a place of honor built for them to rest in peace."

 

Matthew seemed shocked as he glanced down at the red poppies in his hands, Allistor stepping forward and pressing a gentle hand to his back. "I...don't know what to say," Matthew murmured, briefly wiping at his eye with the back of his hand.

 

"You don't need to say anything," Allistor murmured. "Your actions speak enough."

 

"Scotland is right, Canada," Belgium confirmed, a wide smile spreading across her face. "Just heal and take the time to rest until the treaty negotiations begin. You deserve it," she added, raising a hand in farewell as she walked away.

 

There were several moments of silence as Allistor watched her go before he turned toward Matthew. "Now that the fighting is done, I suppose you'll be heading back to your country." He would miss him though.

 

The blonde raised an eyebrow as he glanced over at Allistor. "Actually… I was thinking of going to Glasgow for a while. I know your people have been getting hit particularly hard with the Spanish Flu pandemic that has been spreading… I want to help, if you'll have me." That same shy smile and blush was on his face as when Matthew had first kissed him after their victory on Vimy Ridge.

 

Allistor blinked in surprise, his eyes wide. He would've thought that Matthew would've simply wanted to go home to tend to his own people. He's already dealt with so much death, and yet he was still putting himself right in the middle of it right when the fighting had finally finished. That didn't mean Allistor was going to just turn Matthew away though. "Aye, of course I do."

 

"I'll go arrange for the travel arrangements then," Matthew murmured, gently squeezing Allistor's hand before walking away, his head held tall.

 

The flight from France back to Glasgow felt agonizingly slow, even though it took no more than a few hours. Allistor's stomach was a knot of impatience, and the only thing that seemed to remedy his nerves was the way that Matthew's head was pillowed on his shoulder and his hair tickled the redhead's nose. At least one of them was able to fall asleep.

 

When they had landed, Allistor was about to call for a cab to take them to his house, but Matthew insisted that they walk there. At first, Allistor was confused, but it was only when Matthew kept stopping and handing candies to orphans along the streets, whispering words of comfort to the lost children, that Allistor realized why Matthew had insisted.

 

“They remind you of you, don’t they?” Allistor had eventually asked when they had finally stepped inside the house, tossing his bags just inside the door.

 

“What do you mean?” Matthew asked, loitering by the door for several moments longer before hesitantly slipping his boots off.

 

Allistor raised an eyebrow, walking over to the nation and gently resting his hands on Matthew’s arms. “Growing up alone. Even though ye had France and then England, ye still felt like they’d abandoned you and left ye to fend for yourself. Having to grow up fast.”

 

A hint of pain flashed in Matthew’s eyes as he looked away. “I had centuries to grow up. Those kids don’t have that luxury… Most of them probably won’t even make it past their twenties or thirties...” His gaze was distant and his hands trembled, and that was when Allistor knew that Matthew wasn’t just talking about the orphans on the streets: he was remembering the young men who had enlisted in the war, many of them who hadn’t even turned twenty, whose lives were now extinguished from this world; he was remembering the way that there was nothing that he could do to save so many lives and all the ways they had died; and he was blaming himself for not doing more.

 

“Oh, Matthew…” Allistor murmured, wrapping his arms around the man who instantly buried his face into his shoulder and dug his hands into the back of Allistor’s coat. “You did everything you could do, and you kept so many other men alive. I know it’s hard, but let that be enough and let that guide ye into the future.” He whispered, pressing kisses to Matthew’s cheek and hair, “I may love my people and my country, but I love you too… I always have...”

 

Matthew sniffled, lifting his head with a small chuckle. “I know,” he breathed out, wiping the silent tears from his eyes as he smiled a watery smile at Allistor. “I love you too.”

 

Hearing those words and being able to speak them aloud without fear of being overheard was exhilarating, a wide smile stretching across Allistor’s lips as he leaned forward and kissed Matthew. It was a kiss of yearning and passion and all of the longing that had been built up over the centuries, and Matthew returned the kiss in earnest.

 

A weight seemed to lift from both of them as they lost themselves in their love for each other and the feeling of their flesh pressed against each other, limbs wrapped around one another and tangled together as one. They made love for the first time that night, Allistor kissing away the pain of Matthew’s wounds that had yet to fully heal. And as they lay together afterwards, sated and sharing tender kisses until Matthew had finally drifted off into a fitful sleep, Allistor could only hope--perhaps foolishly, perhaps idealistically--that the war had truly been the war to end all wars and that Matthew wouldn’t have to suffer any more than he already had.

 

A century and several major wars later though, Allistor knew that it was the first World War that had affected Matthew the most. There were times when he would startle awake at night, choking and gagging and short of breath, and Allistor knew without saying it that Matthew had been reliving what had happened to him and his men at Ypres. It happened less often as time dragged on, but Allistor knew that those memories were forever scarred into his mind.

 

And every year, twice a year, once on Remembrance Day and the other on the 24th of April, Matthew would always make the trip back to the Ypres Salient, back to the fields of Flanders. And as Belgium had promised, she and her people had built countless memorials to honor the Canadian soldiers who had fought and died to help protect the Belgian people.

 

“It feels like it was just yesterday…” Matthew murmured, squeezing Allistor’s hand as they walked down the paths through the Flemish countryside, fields of red poppies on either side of them. “It’s so easy to remember the way the poppies had bloomed after the artillery barrages had churned the earth… It was like the earth was bleeding…” There was a haze in Matthew’s voice as he spoke, as if the ache of an old wound had made itself known again.

 

“I know. But it’s over now,” Allistor reassured him gently, pressing a kiss to the back of their linked hands.

 

It brought a smile to Matthew’s face, one that was bittersweet and filled with melancholy. “I know.” He lifted his head as he gazed at the larks that were flitting around in the sky, filling the world with their song, and the melancholy softened until it all but melted away from his features. “And they’ll always be remembered…”

 

“Aye. That they will,” Allistor agreed, pulling Matthew towards him and into a kiss. “And I’ll always be here to remind you if you forget.”

 

A wide smile spread across Matthew’s lips as he kissed Allistor back. “I know. You always have.”


End file.
